


call me daddy: patrick

by lukegodbaby



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Other, Reader-Insert, Spanking, Threats of Violence, ambiguously gendered reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 04:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17891651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukegodbaby/pseuds/lukegodbaby
Summary: Patrick: likes being called daddy because it gives him power





	call me daddy: patrick

When Patrick came calling, you answered, no matter what. It didn’t matter what mood you were in or what you were doing — if Patrick was at your door, you opened it.

 

He knocked. You glanced out the window, grateful that at least he did knock this time, and made sure it was him.

 

Then you opened the door.

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he purred. It wasn’t as sexy as he thought it was, but you didn’t mind.

 

“Hey, Patrick,” you said, opening the door wider.

 

He walked in past you, shutting the door behind him for you.

 

“Not Patrick today,” he said.

 

You instinctively made yourself smaller.

 

“Hey, daddy?” you asked, testing the waters. You weren’t sure if it was your usual, or if he was trying something new.

 

“That’s better, sweetheart,” he said, taking your chin in his hand. “You sure look sweet today.”

 

You were still in the clothes you slept in — you’d been having a lazy day. Now, you knew, there would be nothing lazy about it.

 

“Thank you, daddy.”

 

“You’re being awfully polite. Have you been good for daddy, or are you hiding something?” he asked, trailing his hand down your throat, settling it at the base.

 

You swallowed hard. No matter what you said, you knew how it would end.

 

“No, daddy, I’ve been good.”

 

“Are you sure? I seem to remember you talking an awful lot to daddy’s friends yesterday… flirting with them, almost.”

 

You blanched. You remembered that, too, and at the time, you had thought you were fine. Apparently not.

 

“Daddy, I _swear_ , I didn’t mean anything by it,” you stammered, leaning into his hand, trying to cuddle up to him, trying to make things easier for you later. They wouldn’t be, but if it worked even one time, it would be worth it.

 

“I think you did,” he said. “Take off your clothes. Now.”

 

You swallowed again, slowly following his command. He walked away from you, down the hall to your bedroom, as you did.

 

You arrived in the bedroom after him, and he sat on your bed with his knees spread wide, looking at his fingernails.

 

“Sit,” he said, patting one knee.

 

You sat, your legs on either side of his knee, and leaned forward until your chest was flat on the bed. He smoothed one of his hands across your ass as the other firmly gripped your hip, holding you in place.

 

“Now, what do you say?”

 

“Sorry, daddy.”

 

“That’s not good enough,” he said, and he slapped your ass.

 

He never started out slow or soft — he always went right into it. Not full power, but so close you could almost see your ass bruising. You could certainly feel it.

 

“Ow, daddy,” you whined.

 

“Uh huh. Nice try.”

 

“I’m sorry I talked to your friends, daddy,” you said, squirming, trying to get more comfortable. He held you right in place, though, and there was no moving you could do.

 

He slapped your ass again.

 

“You weren’t just talking, were you, sweetheart?”

 

“N-no, daddy,” you said, gaining another slap. “I was — I was flirting with them.”

 

“And you know daddy doesn’t like to share, don’t you?”

 

You smiled at that. You knew it, but every time he said it, it still got you.

 

He spanked you harder, pulling you out of your thoughts.

 

“Answer me,” he growled.

 

“I know, daddy. You don’t want to share me.”

 

“That’s right.” He paused. “What’s the count, sweetheart?”

 

“Four.”

 

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he said. “I think you deserve thirty. What do you think?”

 

 _Shit_.

 

Thirty could be very bad if he was in a bad enough mood.

 

You hoped he wasn’t.

 

“I think so,” you said tentatively.

 

“Not good enough,” he said, sing-song.

 

You got another slap for that. It was so hard that subconsciously, you leaned away from his hand, pushing yourself forward with your toes.

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he cooed. “Not getting away from me, sweetheart. Tell me you want thirty, or I take off my belt.”

 

You blanched. That was the last thing you wanted — with his hands, he stayed on your ass and the backs of your thighs. With his belt — Jesus. Everywhere was fair game, but he favored your back most of all.

 

“I want thirty, daddy. Please give me thirty.”

 

“All right, that’s more like it. Count,” he commanded, and then set to spanking your ass hard and fast.

 

It went by in a whirlwind — you could barely keep track. Every few hits or so, he would pause and probe just one finger at your hole, teasing you. You would lean into that touch, hoping to get him sidetracked, but he never did.

 

He was spanking you mercilessly at this point, his hand coming down too fast to count the strokes. You gasped in pain, tears welling up in your eyes.

 

“What’s the count at?” he asked, his hand slowing to caress your ass, one finger playing near your hole.

 

“Tw-twenty, daddy,” you gasped.

 

“Mm, no,” he chuckled. “It’s not.”

 

And another powerful blow came down on your ass, making you scream in pain.

 

“Please,” you whined.

 

“Please, _what_?” he said, slapping your ass even harder, surprising you. You didn’t know it could get any harder than that.

 

“Please, _daddy_ , please just fuck me.”

 

He grinned. “No. Not yet. First, you need to say thank you.”

 

His hand came down on your ass again.

 

“Th-thank you, daddy.”

 

“That’s good. But I’m still not finished.”

 

“Daddy, please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want me to do, just please fuck me,” you begged.

 

“Such pretty words,” he said, slapping your ass again. “Guess what?”

 

“W-what?” you said.

 

“I reached thirty ten strikes ago,” he said. “You outlasted your record.”

 

You sighed, rubbing back on his hand, burying your face in the blanket on your bed.

 

You couldn’t believe it, but you also could. With Patrick there to distract you, it seemed natural that you’d do anything.

 

“Stand up,” he said.

 

You did, coming shakily to your feet. He smiled at you, a smile meant for terrifying things. You smiled back, more gentle than maybe you should.

 

He kissed you, all teeth. He bit at your lips, at your tongue, he slid his tongue into your mouth, chuckling when you moaned into his mouth.

 

“Get on the bed,” he said. “On your hands and knees.”

 

You did it, slowly getting there. You knew that like this, he could continue spanking you if he wanted to. It didn’t seem like he wanted too, though, as you felt his mouth on your hole.

 

He began eating you out, slowly. You bucked back on his tongue, and he chuckled again.

 

“So eager,” he said. “You really want me to fuck you, don’t you, sweetheart?”

 

“Yes, daddy.”

 

“Good.”

 

He stood, and you looked over your shoulder as he unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants down just low enough that he could pull his cock out. He was never fully naked when you played like this, and sometimes, you wondered why. You didn’t really care, you were just curious.

 

He lined his cock up with your hole, teasing you, dragging it back and forth.

 

“Say _please_.”

 

“Please, daddy. I want you to fuck me so bad, daddy.”

 

“Good.” He pushed in, slowly, dragging it out as long as he could. Once he was fully buried in you, he said, “Now say _thank you for fucking me, daddy_.”

 

“Thank you for fucking me, daddy. Love it when you fuck me.”

 

“Yeah, you do.”

 

He pumped into you, holding onto your hips. In and out, slamming into you, making you moan. He slapped your sore ass and you screamed.

 

He laughed, breathless.

 

“You’re such a whore for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

 

“Yes, daddy.”

 

“Only me.”

 

“Yes, daddy. Only you.”

 

“You know what would happen if I found out anyone else was fucking you like this?”

 

He asked like he needed an answer. He slowly pulled out of you until only the head of his cock was inside you.

 

“I’d kill them.”

 

Then he slammed back inside you. You screamed his name, and he leaned down, wrapping one hand around your mouth.

 

“You keep talking like that, I’ll make sure you don’t talk at all. Understood?”

 

You nodded, frantic.

 

He took the hand off your mouth, moving it down to your throat, giving it a squeeze.

 

He kept on fucking you, letting out little grunts. In a moment, he came inside you, and he pulled out. You felt trickles of his come slide down your legs. You moaned.

 

“Look at you, all sloppy for daddy. Look so good, sweetheart.”

 

“Mm. I love it when you fuck me out, daddy.”

 

He flipped you over, hovering over you. He put his hand on you, quickly stroking you, his other hand finding your throat again, squeezing hard.

 

You couldn’t breathe — he never did it the safe way. He always did it to make you want to pass out.

 

Your hands went to his hand on your throat, not pulling it away, but just resting there.

 

You came, gasping for air. He pressed a short kiss to your throat, then went to suck a hickey on your collarbone. You ran your hands through his hair, taking in deep breaths as his mouth worked on your skin.

 

When he was done, he was done. He put himself back in his pants, patted you on the head, and left.

 

Over his shoulder, he said, “I meant it. I’d kill them.”

 

You knew he was telling the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr at god--baby.tumblr.com


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